The Mist's Gambit (1) Three Days

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the Technomancer device, its pulse a steady reminder of the mystery sitting at the edge of Mikhailis's consciousness. He leaned back in his chair, fingers idly tapping against the wooden armrest as he studied Arvel, who had remained standing, watching him with a level stare. The weight of the prince's message lay between them on the table, the seal of Serewyn's royal house unbroken no longer.

Three days.

Three days until Prince Laethor arrived to discuss what could only be the most precarious offer Mikhailis had received in recent memory. Three days to decide how deep he wanted to entangle himself in Serewyn's problems. If at all.

Arvel exhaled, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. "The prince is taking a measured approach with you. He's aware of your… unique position."

Mikhailis smirked but said nothing.